Page 18 of What I'm Looking For

“Wow. I don’t think I’ve actually ever seen a Shakespeare play. I mean, in person.” I don’t add that my experience as a theatergoer is limited all around. It just isn’t something I think of doing in the few hours a week I can spend as I choose.

“So you probably hate Shakespeare.” He groans. “You’re one of those people who were forced to readJulius Caesarin ninth grade and haven’t heard or read it ever since.”

“Well, it wasRomeo and Juliet,” I admit. “But, yeah. I didn’t get it. It was so… formal. And all those words I didn’t know. It made me feel dumb.”

His hands tug at his curls. “Agh, you’re killing me! I can’t believe you haven’t had someone bring it alive for you.”

In the middle of the block, right in front of someone’s house, he stops, grabs my hands, and pulls me in to speak softly but passionately, capturing my eyes with his. “‘I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far as that vast shore wash'd with the farthest sea, I would adventure for such merchandise.’”

Whoa.“Merchandise?” I squeak, grabbing onto his last word, which he’d filled with pretty clear meaning. “So, Shakespeare’s an excuse for… checking out my goods?”

He kisses my hands and releases them. “You got it.”

“Yeah, I got it, loud and clear.” I slide my hands in my pockets, heading down the sidewalk again, trying but failing to suppress a litany of naughty thoughts. I may admirehismerchandise, but do I really have time for more than window-shopping?

“See? Shakespeare’s not formal, and you’re not dumb.” He catches up to me, tapping me lightly on the elbow. “Are you doing what you love?”

“Um, yes?” I do my best to recalculate. “I mean, I like it a lot. Right now I’m in a phase where I’m still learning.”

This Shakespeare-quoting vest-wearing guy and me? Far from a sure thing. But it’s really hard to stop thinking about getting my hands on him to find out if his lips feel as good as they look.

“Do you ever feel like what you’re doing is really just gambling?” he asks abruptly.

Is he talking about kissing? No, no, he must mean work. “Me? Oh. Well, that’s a common misconception. I mean, yes, investing and managing money assumes a certain amount of risk. But it’s a calculated risk. People like me do a lot of thorough research before dollars are committed to an IPO or stock buy. That’s the whole point of my job. I’m an equity analyst. Well, junior analyst right now.”

I’m probably going on too much but at least I’m keeping my hands to myself. “I have heard that traders get a real high off of besting each other on the floor—that’s a whole macho thing. I guess that is similar to the high of gambling. We researchers counter those kinds of impulses with careful planning. At the same time, a lot of success comes from having a good nose, a good instinct for what will sell. That goes for people in my job as well as traders. Anyway, the long and the short of it is, capital has to come from somewhere. Without investors, we’d have no way of growing businesses or funding new ones.”

His brow tells me he’s not buying it.

“I remember you said you didn’t see yourself as a businessman. But are you anti-business all around?”

He starts to answer a few times before words actually come out. “No. I just?—” He presses out a strained breath. “Forget it.”

My steps slow in tandem with his. “I am truly interested.”

He brushes a dried-up worm off the sidewalk with the toe of his boot. “I’m not a communist or anything. It’s… family history. I just don’t want to be a slave to making money or get caught in the delusion that there’s free money out there to be had, which is what I’ve seen happen to some people.” The ugly snarl in his voice has me wondering whatsome peopledid to him. “They’re constantly chasing the next big thing and lose sight of what’s important.”

“Are you talking about actors, or everybody?”

“I’m talking about me. I’d rather live with less than prioritize making money over making art.”

I can’t walk and process this at the same time so I stop and face him. “And there’s really no way to do both? What about what Steve was talking about? Commercials and stuff?”

He stops too, but he keeps his focus on the path ahead. “That’s a pipe dream. As they say: You can’t make a living, but you can make a killing.” He shoves his hands in his armpits, arms as closed as his mind.

“So, you’re not even going to try?”

Every muscle in his face ticks with tension.

Left hand high, right on my heart, I pledge, “Not judging, just curious.”

WILL

While Kate waits for my answer, I’m torn between wanting to kiss her and wanting to run away. I just don’t know if I can get into my family history with somebody I barely know. I don’t get into it with people I’ve known for years.

Since even thinking about the wreck my dad made of my family has my shoulders creeping up to my ears, I take my own advice and take a deep cleansing breath.

Then I hold out a hand. “Can we just walk for a bit?”

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